I have little sympathy for any prisoner who, having been so unfortunate as to have been taken by the enemy, allowed himself to settle down to prison discipline, practically a subject of the enemy, without standing up like a man and at least trying to escape. Around a prison camp one hears many, many big ideas of escaping, but there are comparatively few actual attempts. In fact, this boasting habit got on one man to such an extent that he was known as “Wild Fugitive Bill,” for the reason that he was always concocting some new and novel means of escape and yet never had the nerve himself to put it through. Always at the last moment he would get cold feet and give up.
The real test of courage comes when mental plans end and physical action begins. Some prisoners have even prided themselves upon being model prisoners. I have even heard a Captain of Infantry call the Americans together and suggest that some of us quit raising so much hell during roll call as our actions were counted against all the Americans. I pride myself on the fact that I “raised hell” at 239every opportunity from the time I was made prisoner until I was released. The more trouble the prisoners of war caused the enemy the more men the enemy must keep away from the battle line to guard the disturbers. Not many prisoners considered this a point, but I believe that as long as there is war the enemy should be fought and embarrassed—inside and outside.
Karlsruhe seemed to be my ultimate destination, so after a few days to allow me to catch up on food which was more plentiful here on account of the remarkable contribution of the American Red Cross, I again began to set my mind to escaping.
I talked it over with all the old prisoners and they said that no one had yet been able to escape from Karlsruhe, so, in order to get the advantage of experience I talked it over with everyone who had ever tried it. It seemed that the camp was only for concentration, and as statistics showed that the majority of escapes were attempted by newly made prisoners, this camp was especially guarded in order to challenge all comers and to discourage them early in the game. I looked over where every previous attempt had been made and was told just how it had failed to materialize.
The entire camp was certainly well guarded. It had one inner, high fence of barbed wire and one outside fence constructed of wood, about twelve feet high and on top of it was a quarter arc of steel extending inward, heavily covered with barbed wire. They had several guards on the inside and quite a 240large number on the outside, and both the inside and outside fences were well illuminated with electric lights.
At one place along the high, back fence the guards had constructed a sort of chicken house, which threw a shadow against the fence, making it possible, providing enough assistance was rendered, to construct a small tunnel. The bunch, which consisted of Oscar Mandel of New Jersey, a couple of other birds and myself, got together right after the evening meal and talked it over. After full deliberation we decided to try. It was our intention to have it as secret as could be, and we planned there would be only four of us in that escape—and no more; so, after we pledged to one another that we would tell absolutely no one else about it, we shook hands and started right away to make the preparations for the dirty work. Of course, the big job at first was to construct that tunnel for the man who should draw that job would get the real lemon. The beat of one of the guards took him about every three minutes to within about ten feet of the place, and of course, directly on the outside was another guard whose movements would have to be largely guessed at.
The approved plan was to put the “tunnel man” over the barbed wire fence; station another man on the inside, walking back and forth, whistling or something of the like to give the proper signals; then put the other two men at different corners near the buildings close by in order to signal the movements 241of the watchman to the man walking back and forth.
Stepping into the light we got a deck of cards and made the agreement that the man who got the lowest card would go over the fence and dig the tunnel and the man who got the next would do the signaling. Mandel shuffled and Blacky, a little English doughboy, drew the first card. It was a Two of Diamonds. Mack, the second lad, drew a Queen. Mandel, whom we called Mendelssohn as he was a wonderful musician and also a past master in the art of escaping, picked an Eight of Clubs. I had a good chance for I didn’t think it likely that I could get a lower card than Blackie’s “Two,” so I snapped out a card just as unconcerned as could be and hastily looked at it—it was the Ace of Hearts. Now the question was whether the Ace was high or low. I had lots of queer sensations. We had made no agreement about it before drawing, so, I said nothing until the other two boys spoke up and said it seemed to them that Ace should be high. Mandel suggested that in order to be fair that we draw over again, it being agreed that the Ace would be high. This time I drew first in order that all the high cards would not get away. I picked a winner—the Three Spot of something—just what didn’t worry me for I knew the thing was settled and that I would have to go and dig that tunnel. I was picturing myself out there getting shot at when Blackie again saved the day by pulling his same Two of Diamonds. Several sighs of relief were registered by my heaving lungs for my draw assigned me as outer Watchman 242where I had to give Blackie signals all the time. It was quite different than being between two fences, guns all around me and no place to hide.
We agreed to start at once, so, instead of putting Mandel and Mack at the outer corners of the house nearest the scene of operations, we decided to station them at different windows in the house, so as not to cause suspicion by having too many outside. All the blinds were drawn on account of air raids, so we arranged that as the boys walked back and forth in front of the door, that they should quietly keep me informed as to the exact location of the guards.
My signals to Blackie were very simple: Whenever I whistled a tune that sounded like ragtime he was to lay off; when I whistled a tune that sounded melancholy he was to work for all he was worth.
“Do you understand thoroughly, old man?” I asked before he left to crawl over the first fence.
“Sure, you don’t think I’m deaf, do you?” he answered in his incomparable English cockney, as he shook my hand and started for the fence.
Blackie got over the first wire fence with remarkable agility, but he was hardly over when he remarked he had forgotten his little coal shovel which was the only tool we had. Finally we found this for him and as soon as I returned to my post Mandel gave me the signal that all was clear, so I began whistling the army funeral march, and I heard Blackie plugging away. In a few minutes when the boys signaled that the guard was again approaching, 243I began to whistle “In the Good Old Summer Time,” but to my amazement I heard Blackie still working away. Then, to get something real raggy I whistled “Alexander’s Rag Time Band,” but still Blackie worked on. The guard was fast approaching. Something had to be done for if he kept on working he would sure be caught, so, stepping right out in front of the Guard, who, of course, could not speak English, I began to sing a very sad and mournful tune, with my own lyrics.
“Blackie,” I sang, “this guard is right behind me and for the Love of Mike, lay off.”
Blackie stopped; I kept on singing, and the old guard walked right on by. When he was on the other side of the building I rushed up to Blackie.
“Blackie, you damn fool,” I softly exclaimed, “can’t you tell ragtime from a classic?”
“Ragtime,” he said in barely audible cockney English, “Why ragtime’s the name of a song, and by the way, old fellow, if you don’t like the way I’m digging this tunnel, come and try a hand at it yourself. It’s beastly, you know.”
“Go ahead,” I argued, “but from now on I’ll whistle only when he is coming. Get me?”
The next time the guard came around the corner of the building I began to whistle. To my surprise Blackie kept on working. I began to whistle louder than ever, but he kept right on, so, as the Guard approached me, I stopped whistling and instantly Blackie quit working. As the guard passed on I again went over to Blackie and said,
244“Hey, you poor fish! Didn’t you hear me say to quit work when I whistled?”
“Oh, you’re wrong, old chap,” he insisted. “You said very plainly to work only when you whistled.”
I began to think Blackie had to have it impressed upon him, so, I said, “All right, now. Forget it all and let’s start over. Next time remember that when I whistle you work. See, when I whistle, I work; and when I whistle, you work, too.”
He understood this illustration pretty well and we kept this going successfully until about roll call, which was at nine o’clock. Then I asked Blackie if the tunnel was dug plenty deep enough. He was quite sure it was deep enough to get through, so, he crawled over the wire fence again, and we all beat it to our quarters to pack up our few belongings with the agreement that we would meet just outside the assembly shack right after roll call had finished.
This escape, as I have stated, was to be between four of us and no more; but I would swear, there were a hundred eyes on me at roll call. And afterwards, not more than fifteen guys came around and wished me luck.
“Luck on what?” I asked one fellow.
“Why,” he said inquiringly at my question, “you’re going to try to escape, aren’t you?”
So, my well-wishing friends all began to talk about how they wished they had an opportunity to get away too, and all that bunk. I have concluded that a bunch of prisoners are the worst gossipers in the world anyway. Tell one and you tell all. This first 245experience taught me at a dear cost, one of the most valuable lessons of my life. When you are going to escape, or, in fact, try anything else which from its nature requires secrecy, never, under any circumstances, take any one into your confidence, and at most, if ever, only one trusted pal. I had heard the same bluff before, so, I told them if they wanted to get out after we had gotten away, to go ahead, they knew where the hole was, but not to go around and cackle about it like a bunch of old hens; either to get their clo............